


you keep the world at bay (for me)

by catching_paper_moons



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Minor CDTH spoilers, briefest of mentions of, declan - Freeform, his gf, is his gf's name ashley?, just two character names and the university adam goes to, opal - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 02:17:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20350735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catching_paper_moons/pseuds/catching_paper_moons
Summary: “I love you,” he rushes, like he’d needed to get it off his chest, like he hadn’t said it before. (He had.) “I’ll see you soon.”“Okay.” Ronan’s silent for a moment. “I love you, too.”





	you keep the world at bay (for me)

**Author's Note:**

> this tumbled out of me at midnight last night and wouldn't let me rest until i had written it all. i hope you enjoy it! (it was only proofread by me this morning, and i'm still tired lol)
> 
> title comes from "Easy Silence" by the Dixie Chicks

Every and all signs of Ronan Lynch have disappeared from Cambridge, Massachusetts.

He’d moved for Adam, and then, inexplicably, a month later, said he’d had to go for a little bit, but he’d be back, Adam, promise. And they’d kissed, and it had felt, suspiciously, very final. Almost like Ronan wouldn’t  _ actually  _ come back to Cambridge.

(Adam knows this isn’t  _ really  _ true, but it feels like it, anyway.)

It’s the end of the first semester, and Adam’s supposed to drive home in two days to give him time to deep clean after his roommate leaves, but he looks at his suitcase, the folded Harvard three-quarter zip fleece on top of it, his finished final papers that have been submitted, and he sighs, shutting his laptop. “Hey,” he calls. Fletcher looks up, blinking out of his academic stupor. “I’m gonna go.”

Fletcher blinks again. “Like. For the break?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

“I know I said I would deep clean—”

“You’re packed,” Fletcher points out. Adam nods, curt. “You’re just—

“Gonna go, yeah.” Fletcher nods, smiling. “Have a good break.”

“See ya soon, bud. I’ll miss you!” 

Once he’s out of the room, he lets go of the breath he’s been holding all semester, squares his shoulders, and goes.

He walk-runs to the furthest parking lot, the one right by the health services building, and thinks for a moment that he should make a therapy appointment since health services are free for him. He gets in the Hondayota, sitting hard. He’ll call tomorrow.

He thumbs at his phone, presses it to his good ear, and waits for the familiar six rings before he’s hit with Ronan’s voicemail. He’s certain this will happen; this is usually how it goes, and Ronan is not one to break tradition, so Adam jams the keys in the ignition, puts the phone on speaker, and just  _ drives.  _

It goes to voicemail, as it always does, so Adam tries again. On the fifth time, Adam hears static air after the fifth ring. He blinks. “Lynch?”

“Why are you calling?” He sounds clipped, strained, _nervous. _Adam doesn’t like it. “Is something wrong?”

“Um.” Adam nibbles at his bottom lip, and takes the exit to I-95. He’s moving on autopilot, and the further he gets from Cambridge, the freer the knot in his chest becomes, though he doesn’t even know if Ronan will want him there. He shakes his head.  _ He will, Parrish.  _ “No. Just, I guess I wanted to see how everything was? Feels like we haven’t talked a ton recently.”  _ Since you left  _ is what he wants to say, but he won’t. He loves Harvard, really, but he loves Ronan, too; he doesn’t understand why the world won’t let him have both. 

“I’ve been busy,” Ronan says simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. And maybe it  _ is,  _ but Ronan hasn’t told Adam shit, so he wouldn’t know. “So have you. Being smart, and stuff.”

“Never too busy for you,” Adam says, and he means it. It feels like he’s crawling down the roadway at the most glacial pace possible, though at this time of day there’s not enough traffic to warrant the slow speeds of rush hour. He looks down at the dream GPS Ronan had gifted him and wants to groan. He’s only been driving for 15 minutes.

“Romantic,” Ronan snorts, and he sounds far away. He hears the clinking of pots and then lumbering footsteps that can only belong to—

“Hey, Ronan?” Matthew asks, and Adam breathes in through his nose, out through his mouth. “Do we have—”

“Whatever it is, probably fucking not.” Adam resists the urge to laugh as he hears Matthew groan, stomping back to wherever he’d been holed up doing homework. He can picture it so clearly his heart aches for the familiarity of it all. “You’re coming back Friday, right?” 

Adam blinks, switching lanes. “Uh, yeah.” Ronan grunts. Adam hums. “What?”

“You sound distracted.”

“I’m not,” Adam shoots back. He sees the sign for Connecticut, and the knot in his chest loosens even more. “Um.”

“Use your words, dumbass, I’m not fluent in Parrish syllable-speak,” Ronan says, but there’s no heat, and Adam’s one hundred percent sure that if Ronan were right in front of him, his face would be impossibly soft. For all the sharp angles and sharper words, Ronan Lynch is Not when it comes to Adam. It sends warmth through his chest.

“I love you,” he rushes, like he’d needed to get it off his chest, like he hadn’t said it before. (He had.) “I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay.” Ronan’s silent for a moment. “I love you, too.” The line goes dead, and as Adam continues to fly down the highway, though he knows he’ll face traffic, though he knows the normally 8.5 hour drive will inevitably be 9, the closer he gets to Ronan the more normal he feels. 

.

He pulls into the driveway of the Barns, and immediately finds a Lynch in his view, though not the one he expects. “Adam?” Matthew asks. He’s ever-cheery, though confusion floods his tone. “I thought you were going to be back Friday.”

“I rearranged some things,” he offers, though it does nothing to alleviate Matthew’s confusion. He smiles anyway. “Will you help me bring my things in?” Matthew brightens at the chance to do something other than extensive history readings, and they move quickly, bringing everything into the front hall. Adam looks around for any sign of Ronan, and frowns when there is none. He watches Matthew’s retreating back, and recognizes that he’s speaking, but he doesn’t quite catch it. “What was that?”

“Oh, yeah!” Matthew says, turning all the way around. “I forgot about your ear.” He scratches at the top of his head, and Adam marvels at the sweet being in front of him, how he’d come from Ronan’s mind. “I was just asking if you wanted leftover spaghetti. Ronan made it earlier.”

Adam shrugs. “Speaking of your brother…” He tilts his head in silent question. Matthew shrugs. “You don’t know where he is?”

“Nope!” Matthew exclaims, popping the ‘p’ loudly. He scrolls through his phone and looks back up when he realizes Adam hasn't moved. “You could try the barn.”

So Adam does.

He wanders out the back door, through the back deck, and when he steps into the yard, he sighs happily. His first semester is done. He is no longer Adam Parrish, model student from model private boys school. He is no longer Adam Parrish, the really smart kid with the high school sweetheart. He is no longer Adam Parrish, kind and caring friend who will carve out time of his day to be kind to you. He is just Adam.

And he sees just Ronan, sitting against the barn, head tilted back, eyes closed. He smiles slightly to himself, runs his hands through his hair, and then promptly decides he doesn’t care, and walks to Ronan as quickly as his feet will let him. He crouches in front of him and watches Ronan’s face screw up in concern, then confusion, and then his eyes open slowly. Adam reaches out and smooths a hand over Ronan’s head and revels in the way Ronan leans into his touch. “Am I dreaming?” Ronan mumbles. “You’re Dream-Adam, aren’t you?”

“No,” Adam says. “It’s me.” Then, an afterthought: “It’s cute that you dream about me.”

Ronan blinks. “Have I been asleep for two days?”

Adam laughs, light and airy. “No. I called you from the car.”

Suddenly, as if a fog has been lifted, Ronan’s face splits into a blinding smile, and he throws his arms around Adam’s neck. The entire area around them seems to come alive, and Adam does, too. “You shithead,” he mumbles into Adam’s hair as the tumble to the grass. Adam laughs again. “You absolute asshole.”

At one time, he would’ve been hurt. Now, though, he hears it for what it is. “I missed you, too.” Ronan presses a feather-light kiss to Adam’s temple and lets his head fall to Adam’s chest.  _ I love you I love you I love you,  _ Adam thinks, as his hand runs up and down Ronan’s back. “How have you been?”

“Busy.” Ronan kisses Adam’s collarbone, then his neck, then his chin. “Trying not to die.”

Adam’s heart skips a beat. “It’s been that bad?” He can’t help the hurt that enters his voice, and then Ronan lifts his head, looking at Adam. His face is clear, though, and that eases Adam’s hurt and anxiety and worry. 

“No.” Ronan breathes, deep from his diaphragm, like he’s going to sing. Instead, he lets a loud exhale escape. “Just wanted to give myself more time.”

“You don’t like Cambridge do you?” Adam asks, and there’s no accusation to his tone. 

“No.”

“Okay.” Ronan lays his head back down and mumbles something into his neck. Adam scratches at Ronan’s scalp lightly. The moment is fragile but steady, and he's in no mood to fight, for once. Ronan doesn't seem to be either. “What was that?”

“I said, I like you though,” Ronan says again, and Adam’s heart skips one more beat, though for a completely different reason. “I told you I would come back.”

“And you don’t lie.” It’s not a question.

“No, I don’t.” It’s not a lie. 

And then they’re quiet.

.

In the quiet of the night, Adam reaches his hand out for Ronan’s. Ronan, ever awake, takes it, and squeezes. Adam rolls over, impossibly slow, placing his head on Ronan’s chest. He can hear the  _ thump, thump, thump  _ of Ronan’s heartbeat, the way it speeds up and slows down as Adam runs his fingers over every inch of skin he can touch. He presses a kiss to Ronan’s shoulder, so light he’s sure Ronan doesn’t feel it, but Ronan squeezes their laced fingers again. 

Adam feels the entire semester slip from his grasp as they lay together, silence stretching out in front of them for what feels like eons. Adam can hear every creak of the floor where Matthew steps as he tries his best to quietly walk to the bathroom. He can hear the front door open, almost noiseless, as Declan slips in, unnoticed by the rest of the world. The click-clack of a heeled shoe and the sound of rolling bags follow him. Ashley and her soft, muted giggle as Declan shuts and turns the lock on the front door ring through the quiet house. 

“They’re being loud,” Ronan whispers, and Adam snorts, burying his face further into Ronan’s soft sweater. “I told Declan if he was going to come he’d have to come in the morning. I guess he took me literally.”

Adam glances at the clock over Ronan’s shoulder.  _ 1:49.  _ “It’s not that late.” Ronan shrugs, moving Adam’s head with him. 

They fall silent again, and Adam sees one, then two flurries. He sits up, enraptured by the suddenly falling snow. Ronan follows him, wrapping his arms around Adam’s waist. They sit in the bed, watching the world turn white.

The first time Adam remembers it snowing, his father told him to stand outside for an hour with no shoes as a punishment. He remembers his mother ushering him in after 30 minutes, certain her husband was asleep, and admonishing Adam for making him angry. Snow was used as a punishment, as a warning that no Christmas presents would be coming, no Santa for him.

It’s snowed in Massachusetts already, but trudging through the snow to an 8 am is among the least likable things in life, so he couldn’t quite enjoy that snowfall, either. Though he took half his friends and ambushed the other half in a snowball fight, and that had been great fun. He’d even made a snow angel for the first time, and Eliot had taken no less than 36 photos and uploaded them to their Facebook page, making sure to tag Adam in every single one. 

This snowfall, though, feels somewhat whimsical, with Ronan pressed to his back, Adam’s hands covering his as they watch it flutter. It feels like something out of a Christmas movie Adam had never seen, maybe one of the Hallmark movies Matthew talked so much about. They always ended with the main couple happy, in love, forever and ever. “Do you think it’ll stick?” Adam murmurs. Ronan just hums. “D’you think we will?”

“No shit,” Ronan says, and there’s an edge. He’s silent, and then he squeezes Adam’s hands. Adam shudders, overcome. “I… I want it too much.”

Adam recognizes the words as his own, and feels inadvertent tears spring to his eyes. He twists in Ronan’s arms, kissing him. It’s not light or whimsical as the moment had been, but he tries to convey everything he needs Ronan to know, to understand.  _ I love you, I love us, I want this, I want you forever, I want this forever, I want every single bit of this for the rest of my life.  _

Ronan pulls back, and there’s a dazed look in his eye, his sharp edges softened in the moonlight reflecting on the already sticking snow. Adam brushes his thumb over the edge of Ronan’s ear, and Ronan leans into the touch. “What’re you thinkin’?” Adam asks. For the first time in months, his accent slips. Ronan smiles, wide and bright and something so  _ beautiful  _ Adam would do anything to put it there for the rest of his life.

_ For the rest of his life. _

The thought doesn’t scare him like he thinks it should, and his heart settles in the knowledge that he’ll have this as long as Ronan will let him. As long as Ronan will have him. 

“I’m thinking that you’re a shithead,” Ronan grumbles, and Adam laughs. Ronan buries his face in Adam’s shoulder for a moment, and when he surfaces, he’s remarkably clear. “I’m thinking about you.”

“Very Frank Ocean of you.”

“Who’s that?” Ronan asks, and it’s such a Ronan question to ask that it startles a laugh out of Adam again, though it’s louder this time. “No, really?”

“It’s not important, Lynch.” Adam kisses his forehead.

“What kind of last name is ‘Ocean?’”

Adam just tugs Ronan back so that they’re laying together again. After what could be hours, days, years, he shifts. “Do you want to know what I’m thinkin’?” Ronan just hums. He lets the drawl come out more in a way he hasn’t all semester, and it doesn’t bother him. “I’m thinkin’ that you keep me sane.”

Ronan snorts. “That’s the stupidest fucking shit I’ve ever heard,” is what he says, but what Adam hears is “tell me more.”

So he does. “You keep me from falling apart. You know exactly what to say whenever my brain tells me my “dumb Adam shit,” you let me stay here, you gave me…“ Adam trails off, because he can’t find the right word.  _ Purpose  _ doesn’t fit,  _ love  _ isn’t what he wants to say. It’s something else. Something concrete but also conceptual, the way all fascinating and important things seem to be. He smiles. The lightbulb goes on. “Home.” He says it so quietly he can barely hear it, but he can feel the air pass over his vocal chords, and he can feel Ronan’s thumping heartbeat quicken for a moment before it levels. 

Ronan’s breath hitches, and though Adam knows he won’t cry, his chest swells. “Home?”

“I love being with you,” Adam says. “You feel like home to me.”

Ronan buries his face in Adam’s hair, inhales deeply. Adam squeezes him closer, holding him tight, tighter still, like two winding puzzle pieces that no one but them can figure out how to fit together. He feels a suspicious wetness on his pillow, but he lets it be, and kisses Ronan’s forehead. He sends  _ I love you I love you I love you I love you  _ to Ronan telepathically, as much as he can, as much love as he can feel in his heart. 

Because Adam Parrish deserved to be loved, but Ronan Lynch did too, and Adam would be damned if he didn’t let him know.

  
  
  


Ronan’s breathing eventually levels out, and his face relaxes, and Adam watches, stroking Ronan’s hair. He props himself up on an elbow, and his good ear hears the groaning of the house as it relaxes, settles, after a long day, the whistling of the wind. He lets it wash over him, lets the feeling of home overtake him.

Adam Parrish was going to have another proper Christmas, this year, one with Declan and Matthew and  _ Ronan, _ and they would go to see Opal and she would give him a rock, and he would feel overwhelmed, emotionally, but as his friends at college would remind him, that’s  _ okay.  _ But that’s all in the future, and when he checks the clock again, it’s 2:26, and he knows he needs to sleep, the exhaustion of finals week finally catching up with him. He relaxes against the pillow, running his finger down the slope of Ronan’s nose.

“I love you,” he whispers, and it feels sappy, but he doesn’t care. He falls asleep, warm, safe, quiet. Home.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> if you want to get the full effect of how emotional i was writing this (???), you can listen to both "Easy Silence" (where the title came from) and "Lover" by Taylor Swift


End file.
